Apartment Living
by HotpantsHeather
Summary: A soon to be selection of shorts about Pip and his room-mate living in thier apartment together. Rated M for language. Read and Review Please.
1. No cooking

This is the first of some one shots that will not really be linked in any way other than they will all take place in the apartment. These will just be some short things about Rick and Pip living in an apartment together. If you have read "Funny Little Feeling" then you'll remember Rick, but if not then he's an OC I made up on the spot.

Disclaimer: Hellsing, Pip specifically, isn't mine. Rick Graham is.

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The small apartment was a cluttered mess. There were shits, pants, underpants, old dishes, old food, new food, coats, hats, ladies undergarments (including, but not limited to: bras, panties, thigh high stockings, corsets, single perfect wool socks that were obviously not a man's, and the ever popular thong), rugby uniforms and of course shoes and vegemite. A great lump of dirty clothes was the couch and it was occupied by the first of two room-mates: Pip Bernadotte. The Frenchmen was eating vegemite by the spoonfuls. The television was on and he sat with his heels crossed, feet up on the coffee table between him and the TV. He wore a white man's tank and his underwear, which were black with red hearts. He looked as if he hadn't moved since the French revolution. His face was scraggly with fresh facial hair. He was watching the weather. 

A woman scurried about behind him. She spoke quietly, saying "Excuse me…" as she bustled about taking up what she was sure was her clothing. She looked at a sock a moment before dropping it and leaving it to be covered up by other things. It wasn't her sock.

Rick Graham emerged from a bedroom, the only bedroom. He scratched his head and watched the woman, a hint of sleep still in his eyes. He was tall and lanky, with constant summer freckles on his shoulders and nose, of which had been broken many a time. His hair was sandy blond and he wore only his boxer shorts, decorated with tiny devils and the phrase 'horny devil', because they didn't already lack maturity between the both of them.

"Where are ya going, Sheila?" his accent was Australian.

"To work," she said and disappeared with her clothes in hand out the door without so much as a goodbye to the Australian man she had just spent the night with. She had been drunk and she had thought him humorous with his accent. Now, it was shameful.

"Bitch," Pip said and smiled at his room-mate. He held the vegemite to his partner.

"She wasn't, Pip," the Australian said and the Frenchman shrugged.

"Rick," he began, spooning the last bits of vegemite from it's container. "She was, 'ow you zay, ashamed."

Rick looked disjointed. His shoulders sloped and he frowned. Pip was eating his vegemite. The Aussie took the container from Pip and glared. He'd finished it off.

" 'Ow was the bed?"

"Warm and the couch, mate?" Rick flopped down next to his room- mate and kicked his own heels up.

There was a sacred code among men who had lived in this bachelor pad. There had always only been one room. The man who caught a girl got the bed for the night, while the other had the couch. When there was no couch the other had the bathtub, or the pantry, or, if the case was that they did not own a single of these things: the porch or hallway. Originally, they had not even owned the couch, but after the first few nights in the apartment Rick decided that he did not want to sleep in the bathtub anymore. They had invested in a couch.

Rick sunk lower into the fabric. Pip flipped through the channels.

"Porn, mate!" Rick sat up and pointed. Pip reversed direction and if one listened closely enough they could hear the remote button's screech like tires. He ceased and they sat, glazed eyed and watched a woman being taken from behind. Oh, the glories of free cable. They gazed for what seemed like hours, but was only minutes for them, when Rick finally tore himself from the glory that was pornography. He wandered to the kitchen, where he opened the fridge and looked in. Moaning seemed to echo his movements.

"That…is abso-bloody-lutely disgusting," Rick said and his made a pained face at the inside of the fridge. Pip stood and loped to his friend's side.

Pip and Rick had met in their line of work: As mercenaries. They had hit it off quite well and became close friends. They decided, for lack of better things, to share an apartment. They had lived in the bachelor pad (Previously owned by Rick's great uncle, who was forever and ever a bachelor) for only a few days before it began to reek and become theirs. Pip opened the fridge and exhaled a breath at the rank smell that came from it. He waved his hand before his face.

"Wow," was the only word spoken.

"Jesus Christ, what died in there?" Rick demanded and went instead to the counter. He found bread. That was an easy enough breakfast. Pip followed him, like a lost animal. He couldn't possibly be hungry after a jar of Vegemite.

Rick gave him a look. Pip raised his eyebrows.

"What?" he asked and Rick turned back to making his toast. He shoved the moldy bread into the toaster and pushed the lever down. Pip watched.

"Make me zome," he said and Rick glared at him again.

"Make yer own fucking toast," he said and the watched the bread darken in the toaster.

"Fuck, Rick, don't be a dick," Pip said and frowned.

Rick turned from his toaster to look at his room-mate. "You ate all the fucking vegemite."

"Oui," Pip smirked and laughed. "Your point being?"

"That you ate all fucking the vegemite!" Rick declared and turned back to his toaster. There was a fire blazing from the tiny mechanism. It caught the curtain and immediately it went up in flame.

"Fuck shit," Pip said and immediately tried to spring into what one could call action. Rick took a dirty pan from the sink and filled it with water, flinging it at the fire. Pip took the hose from the sink and sprayed the curtains until they were a charred heap of fabric.

"My mother made those," Rick said and sighed. He took up a fork and began trying to dig his toast out of the toaster.

Pip returned to the couch, he wasn't in the mood for toast today. From behind him Pip heard the screech of Rick being electrocuted by his mistake.


	2. No underwear

Rick Graham was wearing a suit. He straightened his tie and adjusted his jacket and cummerbund. Pip Bernadotte, his room-mate and best friend, was on the couch. His own cummerbund on his head. He was eating something greasy that Rick couldn't identify. He growled and smacked the food product from Pip's hand.

"Have you no respect?" Rick demanded.

" 'ave you any?" Pip frowned at his now ruined…food stuff. There was no five second rule in their apartment, or he would have picked it right back up and eaten the rest. No, it would be alive in a few days. No doubt.

"These suits are rentals! I don't want you all greasy for my mother's marriage," Rick explained and looked frantic. Rick's father had been dead for ten years and his mother had slowly worked her way back onto the dating scene. She was marrying an American business man who was willing to live in Australia with her. Rick didn't like him. His mother did.

Pip stood and looked bored. "Fiiiinnnneeee," he grumbled low in his French accent. Rick ripped the cummerbund from his friends head and handed it to him. Pip took it and put it on the best he could, when he was finished Rick still wasn't appeased and he wanted a cigarette.

"Fix it," Rick said.

"Fix what?"

"You know what."

"Ze stove? Ze stove has only been broken for a few hours. I will fix it after the wedding," Pip smirked at Rick. Torturing this poor mercenary was far too much fun to him. They had lived together for so long that it was a regular occurrence. Pip tortured him and made him angry and they ended it in a bloody fistfight. One of Pip's teeth was fake from the previous time the had fought. He had become tired of Rick called him a "Gap tooth bitch".

Rick turned around. He was waiting for his mother to come and pick them up for the wedding. He glared at Pip who stood, hands on his hips with his cummerbund all askew. Rick was pissed.

"I'm going to shoot you in the face after this wedding, you know that right, mate?"

"You look like a faggot," Pip countered and lit a cigarette.

Rick thought about the suit he was wearing. How nice it was. How nice he was supposed to look for this wedding or his own mother would kill him and Pip. She didn't approve of Pip. He had long hair and shifty eyes. His nose was too straight and his eyes were too close together. Pip thought these horrible things for reasons not to trust someone and then Rick had reminded him that he was a mercenary and he had said "Oh Yeah." He had not been wearing a cummerbund all askew and looking generally dumber than usual. Rick wanted to hit him.

"Will zere be any bridesmaids there?"

"My two sisters, mate," Rick told him and then frowned. "NO."

Pip looked excited all of the sudden. "Sisters? I zought you were an only child!"

"No, Pip!"

"Aw, but the ladies, zey call to me. Zey pine for moi!" Pip insisted and Rick took the chance to cross the messy floor and smack Pip upside the head.

"If you so much as dance with my sisters I'll skin you alive, mate," he told the Frenchman before him. Pip shrugged.

Rick took his place by the window, looking out for his mother's limo.

"Guess what," Pip spoke suddenly.

"What?" Rick rolled his eyes.

"No, you must guess," Pip said.

Rick sighed and rubbed his freckled face. "You're not wearing underwear under that rental are you?"

Although miniscule, Pip always knew how to get back at Rick. A for instance: When Rick had knocked out his tooth he had drilled holes in the bathtub. When Rick stole his woman he made sure to speak to great lengths the next morning about how great Rick had been to him in bed too.

Rick's mother had arrived. They hurried down the stairs and to the limo where they climbed inside and were immediately lost in puffy white gown.

"Mum, don't you think it's a bit much?" Rick asked trying to pull it from his mouth.

"Mrs. Graham, you look lovely," Pip said and she gave him a disapproving look. Pip shrugged and looked out the window. He would have his revenge.

"What smells like grease?"


	3. No Sisters

Sorry to all my readers who read this, that this particular chapter is so short. I am really busy with school so I haven't had as much time to write as I've wanted, but I wanted to get these down somewhere before they went away. Anywhat, and for those of you who are fans of Rick Graham, first wonder of the Australian world (his words not mine), can see him in some other stories I will be doing (but not Fanfiction) if you'd like. When I actually get around to them there will be a link in my Profile. Anywhat, cheers. Also, look out for an Update on Exordium, my Integra Enrico fic.

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The day after the Graham- Monty wedding Rick was on sleeping on the couch. He awoke to giggling. Masculine giggling from a Frenchman and sweet, gentle girl giggling. He found it familiar. What girl had Pip brought home now? Why were they giggling? Rick sat up on the couch and looked at the bedroom door. They were still giggling. He stood, his feet soundless on the wooden floor as he padded to the door. He put his head close to it, listening.

"Oh, Elle," a French accent floated through, muffled.

_Elle? _Rick though, _That's my little sister's name._

Rick nearly ripped the door from it's hinges. A cloud of smoke was immediately vomited out of the room. Rick stood in the doorway, watching the two scramble about.

"Pip!" he shouted and went for the other man. He took him by his shoulder and pulled him in a headlock. He was still giggling. The girl squeaked. Rick looked up at her to find that it was, in fact, his younger sister, Elle. She was like him in appearance with sandy blonde hair and freckles, but quite obviously much more dainty.

" 'ello, Ricky," she said and smiled at him.

Rick looked at her and sniffed the air. "Were you two smoking pot in here?"

"She brought it," Pip said in his own defense.

"Well, yes and no," Elle said and giggled again. The girl was only seventeen, and standing in Pip's bedroom wearing only her underwear.

"Okay," Rick tightened his grip on Pip's neck. He whined. "Did you sleep with him?"

"RICK!" his sister whined.

"Tell me or I'll call mum!"

"RICK!" she screamed. Women always screamed. Rick winced and Pip groaned. "IT IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS WHO I SLEEP WITH!"

Rick dropped Pip and went to his sister. "It is too!" he said without as much shout in his voice. "Now, go home before I really do call mum. You know how much she hates Pip. Is that was this was? A way to rebel? Honestly, Elle!"

"All of the girls have sleep with him!" His sister whined. "Even Maryanne!"

Rick turned and stared at Pip, eyes wide with anger. "You've slept with both my sisters?"

"Well…oui and non," the Frenchman said and tried to crawl away from the angry older brother. "You zee, we were at ze wedding and she was zere and I didn't know she was your sister!"

"Okay, so let's see here then, mate: you slept with my older sister at the wedding and then brought my younger sister home to feel up and smoke pot with?"

"Oui, that is ze gist of it, yes."

"Go home, Elle. I don't want you to be witness…"

"Witness to what?"

"A MURDER," Rick said and took hold of Pip, hitting the stoned Frenchman in the face


End file.
